


Act Normal

by cowboykylux



Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Skull Fucking, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26848810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: He recognizes it, that tone of your voice. That tone of yours that makes him weak in the knees, that makes him turn into nothing but a puddle of desire for you. You get whatever you want when you talk to him like that – and he knows exactly what it’s going to be this time. At least, he thinks he does.He kisses you slowly, against the door. The kind of kiss that has his tongue pressing hot and wet against yours, the kind of kiss that makes him hard in his jeans for you. He’s so hard, and you grin against his smile, against the rasp of his goatee, because he has no idea what he’s in for when he growls,“Watch it ketsl.”
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949992
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	Act Normal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Kinktober 2020 fic event
> 
> Prompt: Exhibitionism

One o’clock, your favorite time of the day. Your son coos happily against your hip and snuggles into your neck, his little hands focused on the fascinating task of touching your earrings. Your heels click softly on the polished wood flooring of the CSPD, and you smile to everyone you see as you make your way through the lobby, brand new butterfly gold Pyrex tucked against your free hip carrying treats for your favorite detective unit.

Just a few more feet, a few more hellos, and your husband will be back where he belongs – in your arms.

“Hello Mrs. Heidi, is he in the new office?” You stop by the secretary in the main bullpen, and greet the elderly woman as you open up the casserole dish for her.

Inside are as many shortbread cookies as you could safely cram, all decorated in royal icing of reds and oranges, yellows and gold, designs done with a steady hand and very fine icing tips to make them appear autumnal and delicious. Mrs. Heidi, a woman who you know happens to have a penchant for shortbread, happily takes a couple and sneaks them onto a napkin with a wink, pinching the baby’s cheek to which he giggles brightly about.

“Do you even have to ask?” She motions for you to lean in close, raising an eyebrow conspiratorially, “He’ll be pleased to see you both, he’s in a right mood today.”

What else was new, you thought to yourself with a sigh and a fond shake of your head. Mrs. Heidi seems to read your mind, and she lets out a little amused laugh and pats your shoulder from across her desk.

“Hopefully this will cheer him up.” You say brightly reclaiming the cookies, knowing you have far more up your sleeve for your husband today.

You immediately grow hot, when you think of just what you’ve got planned for him -- if Mrs. Heidi can read your mind, you hope that she isn’t doing so now.

You leave the kind secretary to her treats and her typewriter, and are glad to run into a friendly face, who, by all accounts, looks far more glad to see you.

“Oh thank god.” Ron looks like he’s been put through the ringer, and you simply smile at him apologetically. Ron was too nice of a friend to Flip, he was always exceedingly tolerant and listened to your husband rant and rave and bitch about everything under the sun. Even nice friends like him could only handle so much though, and it seems like Ron was getting to the end of his patience.

“What’s gotten him worked up this time?” You give him a greeting kiss on the cheek and open up the pyrex so he can grab a handful of cookies to stress eat his heart out, walking and talking your way through the bullpen to stand outside the small office door.

“One of the cops misread their rights, so all the evidence we managed to obtain from the might be inadmissible as evidence at trial when this thing goes to court. We almost had to let the guy we’ve been hunting for three months walk.” Ron sighs and your eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, who was it?” Immediately you begin searching the room, trying to look around for the poor sonofabitch who must have been absolutely throttled by your handsome detective.

“Richard -- but not here anymore, Flip really reamed into him and told him to go home for the rest of the day.” Ron scratches the back of his neck, takes another cookie for good measure, “He’s on the warpath.”

Time to work your magic then, you decide with as much of a casual air as possible. You shift your little wiggle worm off your hip and into Ron’s waiting arms, and suddenly your friend’s bad mood has vanished.

“These are for the rest of the guys, could you put them in the breakroom for me?” You ask Ron, who happily nods. “Be nice for Uncle Ron okay _ziskayt?_ ” You smooch the baby’s dimpled cheek and he giggles loudly, and Ron gives you a bright smile before taking him over to his desk to go say hi to Uncle Jimmy.

Turning to face the door of the little office, your heart can’t help but warm at the black letters applied on the frosted glass of the door.

**Lieutenant Zimmerman**

A great big grin spreads across your face as you rap your knuckles gently just below his name, and you roll your eyes when he answers with a rather harsh, “ _What?_ ”

“Aw and here I thought you’d be happy to see me.” When you open the door, it takes all of two seconds for the angry expression on his face to turn to one of being stunned.

“Ketsl!” Flip practically bolts out of his big leather chair, his legs almost flying up comically with the force of how he pushes himself up and over to you. He scoops you up tight and begins kissing all over your face at once, his goatee tickling your cheek chin neck chest as he apologizes, “I’m sorry honey, I had no idea it was already one, come in, c’mere, let me get a look at you.”

“Waitwaitwait! Let me close the door first.” You can’t help but laugh, because the door to his office is still open, and what you want to do with him today will require it being closed.

However…you make sure to leave it unlocked. Once the little latch clicks into place and you’re sure the door won’t swing open of its own accord, you turn back to your husband and are already undoing the wrap tie of your blouse.

“Alright cowboy, go on.” You smirk at him when the fabric of your blouse falls to the side and your ribcage expands with the deep breath you take, your tits on full display.

Flip’s crowding you against the door, groaning low in his throat as his hands cup under your breasts and push them together so that he can nuzzle his face into the cleavage there.

“Ugh, fuck, I missed you.” He kisses the soft skin of your chest all over, grumbling and mumbling you’re your flesh, “Today’s been absolute shit.”

“I’ve heard, is there anything I can…do to help?” You manage to get one of your hands under his chin and tilt his face up up up to yours, your lids heavy and your lips licked wet, kissing his eyelids as they flutter shut, “Anything at all, to relieve you of some of this tension?”

He recognizes it, that tone of your voice. That tone of yours that makes him weak in the knees, that makes him turn into nothing but a puddle of desire for you. You get whatever you want when you talk to him like that – and he knows exactly what it’s going to be this time.

At least, he thinks he does.

He kisses you slowly, against the door. The kind of kiss that has his tongue pressing hot and wet against yours, the kind of kiss that makes him hard in his jeans for you. He’s so hard, and you grin against his smile, against the rasp of his goatee, because he has no idea what he’s in for when he growls,

“Watch it ketsl.”

“Mmm, or what? You’ll bend me over this desk right here where everyone could see?” You whisper against his jaw as you begin to kiss down down down his face, sucking and moaning softly against his throat. “Oh, but that’s right. You like that, don’t you, you like being watched.”

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game sweetheart.” There’s a fist in your hair then, and you grin up at him when he pulls your head back ever so slightly, searches your gaze. Are you just teasing him? Or do you mean it?

“A game sounds like just what you need to get you out of this mood.” You moan guiding his free hand, the one that isn’t in your hair, to grasp and squeeze at your nipple, telling him to, “Go sit down. Let me make you feel good.”

Flip looks good, sitting at that desk of his. He’s got a real fancy office chair, brown leather that can recline a little ways back. Just enough, in fact, that he can lean lean lean back as his legs spread, those knees of his bumping just underneath the wood of the desk. They spread just wide enough for you to settle yourself between them.

Having the office is such a luxury that you can’t imagine _not_ taking advantage of the enclosed space when you visit every day. He’s had it for a week, and you’ve already come on every surface, broken the place in to the best of your ability. But this…this was something else altogether different.

You undo the button closure of Flip’s jeans, and with an expert hand you pull his cock out. It’s flushed at the head, a dark delicious red where he’s aching for you, the veins thick and practically throbbing under your tongue as you lick a stripe up the shaft. That hand in your hair returns, and a long moan shudders through Flip’s chest as he slouches in the chair to relax into your touch.

“Mmm, shit ketsl.” He watches you with eyes that are practically glazed over, jaw dropped at the way you rub the head of his cock through your lips. “Touch yourself?”

You’ve sucked Flip’s dick at the station too many times to count, in back store rooms and broom closets, bathrooms and the empty breakroom, and of course quite a few times on the interrogation table -- but this, this was something you _knew_ he’s always wanted to try, the thrill of being caught. The thrill of someone walking into his office and knowing what you’re up to.

Knowing that you’re under his desk, with your tits out, his cock in your mouth, your free hand stuffed in your panties. Your fingers rub and tease at your folds, and you moan around his length, moan and take him deeper as your fingers push into your pussy.

He can feel it, that thrill now, you know he can; his thighs are twitching, trembling, his tongue darting out to lick and lick and lick at his lower lip. He keeps looking up at the door, his heart thudding, pounding in his ears as his cock _throbs_ in your mouth as you suck him off, take as much of him as you can down your throat.

His cock is velvety and hot and you drool around him, because you can’t help but drool, he’s so big and your mouth gets forced open so wide – you’re lucky his office is wood floors and not carpeting, easy clean up. Especially with the way your cunt is so slick, dripping all over your fingers and soaking through your panties, that wouldn’t do to have absorbing into his carpet.

“Fuck – (Y/N) someone’s coming.” Suddenly, Flip tenses, and your heart hammers in your chest as the two of you make eye contact.

He looks wild in the best way, and when you pull off of him and gasp for air, his dick oozes precome onto your lips and chin.

“Better act normal then, because the door’s unlocked and I’m not stopping.” You grin devilishly, and lick all of that precome up, swallow it down.

“Flip, can I come in?” The voice of Mark, one of the guys down in homicide, sounds from just beyond the door.

Flip looks at you, and you look back at Flip, and you _suck_ so hard that he has to brace himself against the edge of his desk as he makes the decision that yes, yes you’re going to do this.

“What do you need?” Flip clears his throat loudly and with the question, allows Mark to come into the office.

You’re hyper-aware of everything all at once, the thud of his footsteps as he comes into the room, the noise from the bullpen just outside the office door, the heaviness of your own breathing, the air conditioning and the chatter and and and – everything reminding you that you’re in public, that you’re at Flip’s work, that you’re under his desk.

The only reason you can get away with this at all, you think with a smirk as you nearly deepthroat your husband right there, is that you’re completely concealed by the desk. And, as long as Mark doesn’t come any closer, Flip’s big cock down your throat is concealed too.

That big cock, twitching and pulsing, hot precome salty tangy perfect on your tongue as you fuck yourself on your fingers, your tits glistening and wet from drool that’s slipping sliding out of your mouth.

“Hey wasn’t your wife visiting?” Mark asks real nonchalantly, and you almost choke. “I could’ve sworn I saw her in the lobby earlier.”

“She uhhhh,” Flip realizes a second or two later that Mark is talking to him, and he blinks and clears his throat again as he twitches and tries his best to remain calm even when you’ve got your hand wrapped around his length and are stroking him off while you suck on the head of his dick, “She had to go to the bathroom. What do you need?”

“Chief needs some signatures on this paperwork, he asked me to bring it over. Do you think you take a minute to look at it?” Mark is blissfully unaware of you under the table, and Flip does he absolute fucking damnedest not to look at you – because if he looks at you he _will_ blow his load right in front of this guy, and then everything will be fucked.

He’s so hard from that thought that he accidentally twitches so hard that he rams his knee up underneath the desk and shakes everything on top of it. You pull off his cock and cover your mouth so you don’t gasp from the sudden movement, giving yourself away.

“Sure sure, just leave it on the side table there,” Flip doesn’t know how he sounds entirely too cool for a man about to come so hard he might cry, but he is, and he does, and Mark is nodding and already walking away from the desk, back towards the door. “I’ll get it back to him after lunch.”

“Thanks Flip.” He says with a friendly smile and a nod.

“Yup.” Flip wants to come so badly, wants to come down your throat so badly and then bend you over this desk and fuck you raw until _you’re_ the one crying.

“Oh and tell the missus I says hi.” Mark is all too cheerful and Flip musters all his strength to not snap at him.

“Sure thing – close the door, please.” Flip replies through grit teeth, and finally, finally, the door is closed and Flip is growling at you, releasing a big breath he’d been holding.

He winds his fist in your hair again and gags you on his cock with how tightly he presses your face to his crotch, making your throat stretch and bulge around him. You rock back on your fingers fast fast fast until you’re coming, your eyes fluttering shut and jaw going slack. Your drool darkens his jeans as you moan and choke around him, and that leather chair of his creaks beautifully as you bob your head up and down shallowly to mimic the way he loves to thrust and fuck your mouth.

“Ohh fuck honey-bunny, you and that tongue…” He thunks his head back against the chair and comes hard hard hard, the salty tangy sticky taste of come hitting the back of your throat as he shakes and shudders around you with a, “Fuck.”

You just breathe through your nose and take everything he gives you, before eventually pulling off him and stroking his cock slowly, carefully, to milk out any last droplets of come that you kiss away from your palm.

He looks absolutely wrecked, your husband does, his eyes rolled back into his skull as he gulps down deep breaths. He’s sweating, which you think is charming, because you’re the one who did all the work. But it’s work you love doing, because he’s already smiling at you hazy dreamy so in love, his hand coming to cup your cheek as he leans over to kiss the taste of himself off your lips.

“Liked that?” Your voice is raspy from being used so raw, and that makes Flip come a little bit more in your hand with a soft groan. He knows that the second he tries to stand up, he’ll collapse, his legs made of jell-o.

“You’re gonna be the death of me honey, you know that?” He bites the inside of his cheek when you tuck him back into his jeans and button him up sweetly, let him bury his face in your cleavage once more before you tie up your wrap blouse, “The death of me.”

“At least you’ll die a happy man.” You chuckle, knowing that at the very least, no one can suspect what goes on behind the frosted glass.


End file.
